Walk Through The Fire With You
by Rat
Summary: He thought that worst that could happen was that he'd get arrested, or disbarred and prohibited from practising law.


Three letters were delivered by private messenger, Karen signed for them.

* * *

DEPARTMENT OF DOMESTIC DEFENCE AND MUTANT AFFAIRS

FRANKLIN NELSON

ORDER TO ATTEND: VOLUNTARY COOPERATION

You must attend this meeting. If you do not you may be found in contempt and charges of investigative hindrance will be imposed.

MANDATORY COOPERATION

Date: SEPTEMBER 8, 2015

Meeting will take place at GENSTORM INC.

Time: 9:00AM

PRESENCE IS ORDERED REGARDING INTERVIEW BASED ON INCIDENTS INVOLVING THE WITNESS OF ACTIVITIES OF ACTIVE VIGILANTE DAREDEVIL.

* * *

DEPARTMENT OF DOMESTIC DEFENCE AND MUTANT AFFAIRS

MATTHEW MURDOCK

ORDER TO ATTEND: VOLUNTARY COOPERATION

You must attend this meeting. If you do not you may be found in contempt and charges of investigative hindrance will be imposed.

MANDATORY COOPERATION

Date: SEPTEMBER 8, 2015

Meeting will take place at GENSTORM INC.

Time: 9:00AM

PRESENCE IS ORDERED REGARDING INTERVIEW BASED ON INCIDENTS INVOLVING THE WITNESS OF ACTIVITIES OF ACTIVE VIGILANTE DAREDEVIL.

* * *

DEPARTMENT OF DOMESTIC DEFENCE AND MUTANT AFFAIRS

KAREN PAGE

ORDER TO ATTEND: VOLUNTARY COOPERATION

You must attend this meeting. If you do not you may be found in contempt and charges of investigative hindrance will be imposed.

Date: SEPTEMBER 8, 2015

Meeting will take place at GENSTORM INC.

Time: 9:00AM

PRESENCE IS ORDERED REGARDING INTERVIEW BASED ON INCIDENTS INVOLVING THE WITNESS OF ACTIVITIES OF ACTIVE VIGILANTE DAREDEVIL.

* * *

"Is this even legal?" Foggy asked.

Matt shrugged. "It's the Department of Domestic Defence and Mutant Affairs. I don't think they care."

They met at their office and shared the cab. The building was post 'Incident. It was a massive construction of steel and glass with absolutely no character or branding other than the nameplate out the front door identifying it as Genstorm Incorporated. The lobby was impressively intimidating, vaulted ceilings and decorative arches complete with an entire wall fountain. Three security officers stood professionally stoic just inside the doors and scanned their ID as they entered.

"Elevator three." The security officer walked them to the elevator and used his keycard before selecting the floor number. They were taken directly to the twenty third floor, and the doors opened to a bright waiting room.

The receptionist behind the desk once again asked for their ID, which he took and did not return and asked them to have a seat.

"It's quiet." Matt said.

"So. This isn't meant to be intimidating at all." Foggy said sarcastically. "It's a good thing I got desensitized to obvious power tactics at Landman and Zack because otherwise I might be freaking out a little."

"Tell me about the room."

"We're the only ones here, you know other than the guy working the desk. There are ten identical brown leather chairs that look like they'd be comfortable but as we have now discovered really aren't. Side tables every other seat, impeccably clean. No coffee machine or snacks. The receptionist doesn't even have a coffee mug at his desk."

"You want some coffee?" Matt asked him.

"Absolutely not, I think I am wired enough, thank you. But, some nervous snacking wouldn't be uncalled for."

Karen let out a slightly shaky breath. "Why are you nervous?"

Foggy sighed. "It's a power play, but a good one, designed to make us feel weak and highlight their position of wealth and power. Why all this? They could have just asked us their questions over the phone. We've had, what? Me and Matt had one run in with the guy when he gave us those files, and you've seen him once when he saved you from that assassin, and you already gave your statement to the police. This whole thing screams crazy-militant-government-organization and they are probably listening to every word I'm saying, which hey in the that case, I want you bastards to know I'm not even a little bit impressed with having my morning rescheduled by a shadowy government agency. And now I'm going to end up on a watch list and never allowed to fly again. I do plan on going on vacation once we have some clients. Somewhere hot with drinks that come with little umbrellas in them."

Matt laughed and patted Foggy on the arm. "It'll be fine. They're only collecting information. What colour are the walls? Any artwork?"

"Off white, kind of grey." Karen said.

"The artwork is elderly nudes. Very tasteful." Foggy added.

"No art." Karen laughed. "Nothing on the walls at all. No windows."

"It doesn't sound right in here." Matt said softly. "Do you hear it?"

"Hear what, buddy?"

"The resonance isn't right."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't- uh I don't know." Matt answered hesitantly, because he couldn't. Everything just sounded, wrong. He couldn't map the space around him properly. "It's hard to focus."

A door opened and shut somewhere down the hall, footsteps on carpet, flat smooth soled shoes with laces, one lace hanging down longer than the other and dragging along the floor with every step. A confident step, but light, female? Buttoned jacket, expensive slacks. "Someone's coming." Matt said softly.

Foggy nodded. A woman walked into view moments later. "Thank you for waiting, please come this way." She led them down the hall and she opened a door. Matt had his hand lightly on Foggy's elbow, she took his arm and firmly pulled him forward into the room.

"We aren't being interviewed together?" Foggy asked. Matt heard his heart rate accelerate.

"The interviews are private." She answered and turned back to Matt.

"Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."

He reached out quickly to catch her before she could leave and his hand brushed up against her back. "Could you show me where the chair is? I could find it myself, but-"

She wrapped her fingers around his arm and guided him towards the table. He found the chair with his hand and thanked her. Foggy and Karen waited in the hall, their heartbeats familiar and comforting until the door closed and they disappeared completely. Matt pressed his palm against the table and focused on letting more in. There was nothing.

And he was quickly coming to the realization that nothing could be heard from all directions.

Matt sat stiffly in the chair. The minutes passed and though his watch didn't have a second hand he did hear the click of the indicator move forward once every minute. He focused outwards on his surroundings. Sound proof insulation? He rapped his knuckles on the table and listened to it react with the room. There was the table and a chair across from him. Otherwise everything felt muted. It was- not pleasant. He focused further. The faint buzz of lights. The smell of chemical cleaner. The air was warm and still.

When he next checked his watch the sound of the minute tick startled him. He focused bringing his senses back in. He listened to his own heart beat. Fifty minutes passed and no one had come to talk to him. Did they forget what room they placed him in? Were they making Karen and Foggy wait as well?

Karen had seemed only curious and excited at the prospect of being interviewed about Daredevil. Foggy was, well Foggy was full of shit. He was acting nervous and paranoid when Matt knew for a fact that he was secretly enjoying the clandestine nature of it all. Foggy had already told him he intended to learn as much as possible about what they knew about Daredevil. Foggy was on a mission. And Matt. He was curious and annoyed at having his morning hijacked. Nervous too. He didn't like that a government agency was taking notice of him. The nervous part only grew stronger as he waited. He'd never experienced this level of silence before.

A metallic grinding sound filled the room, clicking of gears and scraping of metal on metal, the sharp whine of hinges and wood scratching against carpet fibers. A heart beat that burst forth louder than a drum as a man walked in, his heavy footsteps like thunder on the floor. He pushed it all down and wrestled for control. He should have been able to feel the vibration of the person walking down the hall. He should have heard the person coming. What kind of place was this?

Air from the hallway swept inside, refreshingly cooler than the air inside, and the door closed. Coffee breath. Cigarette smoke lingering on the jacket, but not a smoker. Steady heartbeat, calm. Rubber soled shoes, heavy tread. Strong deodorant, applied within the last five minutes. Onions, garlic and eggs from breakfast. Detergent. Bleach. Mint mouthwash.

Matt stood up and held out his hand in greeting.

The chair across from him slid and against the carpet as it was pulled out. His hand was ignored. He lowered his arm back to his side and was reminded of what Foggy said earlier. It was all a power play.

"Mr Murdock. Please sit down." A deep voice. An older man. Washington accent. Steady heartbeat, slightly high blood pressure. No sound of hair, no scent of shampoo. Bald? He did not offer his name.

Matt took his seat and waited.

A paper was slapped onto the table in front of him, pushed forward. He considered ignoring it, but sought out the edge with his fingers. A folder, not very thick. Maybe ten pages. He felt briefly inside. Glossy paper, photographs? The rougher type of printer paper, he could feel the slight indentation of letters from a printer.

587 34th St.  
March 13 2015 23:34

"What is this?"

"All the information we have collected on the vigilante known as Daredevil.  
Roots in Hell's Kitchen. Martial arts training. Acrobatics. Average human strength. X factor unknown."

"You think he's a mutant?"

"You tell me." The agent replied.

Matt touched the folder again, wishing he could see something, anything inside it, but he closed it and pushed it back towards the interviewer. "You want to take a statement regarding my interaction with Daredevil?" Matt asked.

"Go ahead."

"He gave us information to pass on to the police department regarding Wilson Fisk's criminal activities."

"Any observations about the person?"

"No. The whole interaction lasted less than a minute."

"How did you lose your sight, Mr Murdock."

"What does that have to do with the Daredevil?"

"Answer the question."

"This isn't about me." Matt answered.

"I disagree." Another heavier pile of paper was placed on the table. Thick. The agent flipped through the pages. Matt could hear differences in grain and weight as the air rustled them. "Do you know what this is?"

"Another folder." Matt said, not knowing what else he could possibly answer.

"Daredevil does not have the X Factor. We've already tested his blood."

Matt carefully did not react, but he could hear his own heart racing.

"We did find something interesting in the tests we ran: radiation signatures. You lost your eyesight at the age of nine when you were exposed to radioactive isotopes. Do you know what is in your blood, Mr Murdock? This file is your complete medical history. Radiation signatures. It's an exact match. You know what reasonable doubt is. We're far beyond that."

"You can't..."

"Yes we can, Mr Murdock. We are the Department of Domestic Defence and Mutant Affairs. The government has granted us certain rights under the internal defense act and mutant control protocol."

"You said yourself I'm not a mutant."

"The changes in your DNA structure brought forth by the gamma radiation contamination justify your inclusion under the super-human registration act based on the evidence of unnatural abilities."

"What are you going to do?" Matt clenched his fists. Matt could sense objects in a room based on the way sound echoed off them. He could smell onions on a person's breath up to three days after eating them, and read the indentations of a pen with his fingers. He could parkour, box, and drop kick muggers. He wasn't super-human.

"You will be evaluated and dealt with accordingly."

"And if I refuse?"

"We aren't asking for your permission, Mr Murdock. It has come to our attention that you are affiliated with a member of an international organization known as the Chaste. That alone places the currently active masked vigilante Daredevil on our terrorist watch-list. Your involvement the Hell's Kitchen bombings and the murder of three police officers has forced us to take immediate action."

"I didn't do any of those things." He never thought, he never even considered that he would enter the radar of these people. He'd been worried about the police. He thought that worst that could happen was that he'd get arrested, or disbarred and prohibited from practicing law.

"Do you have any evidence to verify that claim?" He was silent for a moment. "I thought not. Your cooperation or lack thereof will be taken into consideration on your evaluation. I must warn you, your case is looking grim for both you and your associate Franklin Nelson."

"What? Foggy's not-"

"No. He is not under our mandate. Should you be are classified as a threat to domestic security with links to international terror groups your case will be handled by our department, Mr Nelson will be prosecuted in public court."

"He doesn't-"

"Know? He has already acknowledged the validity of the charges against him."

"Karen is innocent."

"We are aware of Miss Page's history, we agree that on these charges she is innocent. We've already taken her statement and released her."

"Let Foggy go and I'll cooperate." Matt offered.

"This is not a negotiation. Your schedule has already been adjusted and you will not be leaving this building until we are satisfied, Mr Murdock."

"How long?"

"As long as it takes. The process will move more smoothly with your cooperation."

"I need to make a phone call."

"There will be no outside communication from this point onward." The man stood and pushed his chair in. "Your cooperation is acknowledged and appreciated." He walked towards the door and paused for a moment. "Your associate, Mr Nelson has indicated that as a government sanctioned body, we are required to provide disability services when requested. Do you require assistance, Mr Murdock?"

There was a tinge of humour in his voice. Taunting. Matt wanted to refuse but he knew enough to grasp at any straw available to him. "Yes."

The agent was not pleased, but not surprised. "As Mr Nelson has prior knowledge of your situation and is not affiliated with this organization, do you agree to have Mr Nelson act on your behalf as your service assistant?"

"Yes."

The agent walked out and slammed the door.

The hum of electric lights went with him.

Did they turn the lights off? Matt couldn't hear the light electric hum anymore. The silence in the room was much more unnerving this time around. Once again the silence began to weigh down on him. The longer he was there the harder he strained to hear beyond it. Nothing. The only sound was of his own body, his own heart. It wasn't enough.

He stood and walked around the room with his hand trailing the wall. The walls were soft and uniform. No windows.

He flinched at what sounded like an explosion, followed by a deafening hum coming from above. This time he could even feel the warmth coming off the bulbs. He stumbled backwards as the door moved. Metal against metal, screeching, scraping, grinding. He struggled to press it down again. Cool air blew through the room with what felt like the force of a howling windstorm. Matt braced himself with a hand against the wall, unwilling to succumb to the instinct to cover his ears and show these people exactly how effective their tactics were against him. Booming footsteps, drumming hearts. Two heartbeats, two people. Food. Turkey, mayonnaise, bread, coffee, sugar, milk. Fluorinated tap water. Paper plates and cups.

"Hey."

Foggy. Thank God he spoke quietly. Matt focused on him. He knew this should be nothing on the scale of sensations he sorted through every minute of every day but the sudden onslaught of sensation felt overwhelming.

A tray was set down on the table. Footsteps moving again back towards the door. Mint toothpaste, listerine, dog fur, and strawberries. The sound of the door shutting/slamming, reverberated loud enough for Matt to catch a brief sensation of the dimensions of the space around him before it faded quickly back into the non-existence it had been before.

Except for Foggy. Foggy's heartbeat thudding quickly. Foggy. Coffee, oatmeal, apples, cinnamon, breath mints. Peach shampoo. Soap. Toothpaste. And the comforting smell of just Foggy that Matt knew from rooming with him at Columbia.

"Foggy." Matt said softly and immediately closed the space between them. The one thing in the space of absence that Matt could physically grasp hold of. He wanted, he wanted to envelop Foggy completely, to get lost in his scent and sounds and ... he settled for a hand on Foggy's elbow because everything was so messed up and Matt had only himself to blame and he didn't dare even contemplate the possibility of deserving comfort. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"I'll be okay." Foggy pushed the glass of water into Matt's hand. "I get to stay."

"I'm sorry."

Foggy gently took control. He pulled Matt forward and wrapped his arms around him. A hug that Matt found himself melting into and pulling closer and finally drawing strength from.

Foggy needed him. If they were going to come out the other side of this they were going to both have to use all the tools available to them. Matt allowed himself to remain in Foggy's arms until he felt like he could stand on his own again. He stepped back and found his center.

"Did they show you a folder?" Matt asked.

"Yeah." Foggy did not sound pleased about it.

"What was in it? The agent who talked to me had it on the desk, showed it to me, but… I couldn't." Matt took a deep breath and started over. He focused on finding his center. Foggy needed a partner. "He said it was my file. He let me touch it but I couldn't feel anything beyond different paper sizes and textures."

"He's a dick, Matt. And they are trying to intimidate us. This is all part of the power play remember?"

"I know. But, did you see it?"

"Yeah, he showed it to me. Blurry surveillance photos. Lots of forms. Lab reports from the blood tests. Witness testimonies. They matched your DNA."

Matt took Foggy's hand and held on. "How are we going to beat this?"


End file.
